


Winning at Life Versus the Green-eyed Monster

by valderys



Category: RocknRolla (2008)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 04:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valderys/pseuds/valderys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a man who claims he isn't gay, One Two seems awfully interested in who Handsome Bob may or may not be seeing.  Bob likes a bit of fun at his expense and doesn't hope for anything else - because he's not stupid.  And Mumbles?  Well, he's just laughing at the show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winning at Life Versus the Green-eyed Monster

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beckymonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beckymonster/gifts).



> Written as a pinch hit in two days - thanks for giving me the excuse to watch the movie, I've been meaning to for months! :)

It was when it was all over and they were sitting in the Speeler having a beer that One Two asked him about it. Which made Bob smile hard enough to show his crooked tooth although he ducked his head to hide it, and not from vanity for once neither. Got to protect the fucker's feeling, right? He was a mate first, and everything else second.

'Cos One Two wanted to know about Bertie. He wanted to know if Bob was going to go through with the date, if it would be safe. He wanted him to know that Bob didn't have to, they could leave the fucker high and dry, his dick literally flapping in the breeze. Bob didn't have to do shit, ok? Not now and not ever.

It was sweet in some ways, Bob thought. Like he was trying to protect Bob's honour or something. But it was a fucking insult in others - did One Two just think he'd turned into a bleedin' girl now that he'd finally caught the clue bus? Did knowing Bob liked dick instead of pussy suddenly mean he'd cut his own balls off? He was still the Wild Bunch's driver, that's what he was at the core of him, that hadn't suddenly changed, and where he chose to dip his wick was neither here nor there.

Bob batted his eyelashes at One Two though, rather than say any of that, because it was too much fucking fun and somehow now there were too many words crowding up behind his teeth and threatening to spill out. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Mumbles desperately trying not to laugh, and that decided him. There were things neither of them knew about Bob, about the situation, and he could play with that. They were all of them rich, for now, until the next big poker game anyway - so what else was there to do?

"It's alright," said Bob, with a grin, "There's no need to worry about Bertie. For a pansy-arsed lawyer, he's ok. Got a good mouth on him. If you know what I mean."

One Two's face was a picture, eyebrows raised, eyes popping, the works.

"You did not just go there," Mumbles was admiring, like he was watching a car crash from a lovely safe distance across the street.

"Yeah," said Bob, starting to enjoy himself, "Something on account, like. He might have known who Sidney Shaw really was. I had to make sure, didn't I?"

One Two's eyebrows were contracting, getting closer together as the thunder clouds rolled in, until he had just the one beetling brow in a shape of a deep 'v' - not his most attractive face, but it was all for Bob and he took what he could get. He leant back in his chair, beer bottle dangling from his fingers, feeling loved. There was nothing better than getting One Two all riled up for making him feel alive.

"So you mean to tell me that you've already been out with that pathetic bastard?" spat One Two, his accent getting heavier, as it always did when he got angry, "It was meant to be a ploy - you know, a ruse? A plan designed to get him to spill, you were never meant to... You did not just..."

"He spilled, all right," said Bob and waggled his eyebrows suggestively, just to watch One Two splutter and go red. "And I never said we went _out_..."

"That's enough," said Mumbles, because he was no fun like that, and because he was always the peacemaker, and because One Two might do or say something unforgivable if things were allowed to carry on.

"I can't believe you whored yourself..."

Like that.

Bob carried on smiling though, because he was that kind of bloke, and One Two didn't really mean it. Or if he did, then not for long. Like after the dancing. He had a sudden overwhelming sense memory of holding One Two in his arms as they swayed, the smoke-beer-aftershave scent of him, the scratchy press of his jaw against his cheek, his temple. His utter certainty that this had been a terrible idea because now Bob knew what it felt like and he'd never once get to feel it again. Fuck, yes, he'd been up for a meaningless encounter with a hot lawyer. Didn't mean he'd actually gone through with it, mind, but One Two didn't know that. Bob wiped the back of his hand over his mouth feeling prickly and irritated. Maybe he would next time though. Maybe he'd actually go on that bloody date after all.

"Hang on," said One Two, as though nothing had happened, which maybe it hadn't in his head, 'cos it wasn't like he didn't say stupid shit like that every single day, "When did you see Bertie?"

"Same day it all went down," said Mumbles, picking up their pack of cards and preparing to shuffle them as much as their greasy condition allowed, "I had to wait outside the house. Believe me, you had it easy. I've got more imagination than you have, and in my head it was wild."

Bob huffed a laugh and grinned a bit wider, licking at his teeth. One Two looked almost offended, which was bloody rich. "You mean you went to his house, to his and Stella's house? Christ, have some class, at least I shagged her at my place, rather than rubbing anyone's nose in it. I can't believe that you..."

"Yeah, well." Bob was starting to get properly pissed off. "I'm not you."

There were a few seconds of silence filled with uncomfortable looks and One Two's glowering before Bob gave in. For fuck's sake, this was worse than dating strippers.

"Look, he wasn't even there," said Bob, at last, "It was just her, the posh bird, and she'd been entertaining, so she's not as classy as all that. She was all... mussed up."

"Mussed. Up." One Two's voice had gone all high, like he'd surprised his maiden aunt with the vicar or something. Which was ridiculous. 

"You know. Smudged lipstick, hair all out of place, and her dress was torn. She'd even broken a heel, I think. Must have been why she was limping. So yeah, somebody had been having a wild fucking afternoon, but it wasn't me."

Mumbles started dealing then so he wasn't looking up when he asked, "So what took you so long then?"

He didn't see One Two's eyes flash, and his mouth tighten into something not quite a snarl but Bob did. It took him aback. Since when was One Two this bothered about what Bob got up to? Or was there something else going on here? Bloody fucking hell - he wasn't _jealous_ , was he? About what exactly? Or was it who? Did One Two really believe he'd shag his mate's bird? That wasn't part of the bro code - Bob was better than that. Jesus.

Enough was enough, this was getting ridiculous. "Look, can I have a word in your shell-like? If your lordship would step into my office..." Bob got up, shifting his chair with a screech and Mumbles glanced up, startled, with the beginnings of alarm in the crinkled corners of his eyes.

Yeah, so Mumbles had missed something, he'd get over it. They all would. And so what if it was usually Mumbles in here with One Two calming him down, setting up the jobs, listening to him moan. Bob could do that too, couldn't he? He was just as good a mate. He looked around the storeroom like it held the deep seated mysteries of the universe instead of extra packets of smoky bacon crisps.

At least One Two followed him in.

Bob took a deep breath. "Look, what exactly is your problem? I didn't touch her, if that's what you're thinking. In fact, it was her what dragged me inside, she even made me have a drink, while she sat and chain-smoked. For fuck's sake, I can't stand gin and tonic, you know that, if I didn't know you were interested in her, I wouldn't even have been polite." 

One Two seemed almost speechless, sputtering over his words. "And that's all that happened?"

Bob nodded, relieved that One Two was finally being sensible about this. He hadn't realised how tense he'd gotten. "She's a weird bitch though," he added, rambling in relief, "She went round checking all the doors and windows were shut and when I finally got up to leave, she thanked me. For drinking her shitty G&T, I suppose."

"I don't care about Stella!"

One Two was looking frantic again, like the frustration of trying to talk to Handsome Bob was going to kill him one of these days. It made Bob grin because that meant all was right with the world.

"The fact is, I don't want you seeing him. You know. Bertie," said One Two, getting all up close and personal, and staring into his eyes. That was nice. He was trying for some kind of earnest bullshit, and... Yeah, there it was, the avuncular hand squeezing his shoulder. Bob could have written the script. "Sorry about what I said - because you're better than that. Better than him."

Bob nodded, smirking a little and watching One Two smirk back. "Ok, I won't," said Bob simply and went to hug him.

There was a split second of hesitation, but that was all. Then One Two melted into the manly cuddle like the trooper he was and Bob might have had a tear in his eye. There was even back-slapping.

Then One Two cleared his throat, before standing straighter than normal, all stiff and formal. "I'm glad that's cleared up."

"Yeah," said Bob, "Me too."

He watched as One Two went out to the main bar leaving him in the dim storeroom. He'd go out there himself in a minute, and he'd play poker with his best mates, and maybe he'd win a few hands, and maybe he'd lose a few, but it didn't really matter now, did it?

There in the gloom, where no-one else could see, all surrounded by boxes of dry roasted peanuts, he allowed himself just one really big shit-eating grin. Because One Two _had_ been jealous, Bob was almost sure of it, and he hadn't given a damn about Stella. Instead, there'd been something else in his eyes, something hot and fierce and just a little bit dangerous, and while Bob wasn't counting his chickens quite yet, he felt he could at least begin circling the hen coop.

This must be how it feels to win at life, thought Bob, just as good as escaping a five-stretch or dancing a slow dance in a salsa class. Happiness felt a lot like this. He punched the air in triumph, because he couldn't help himself, and managed instead to clock the dangling light fitting which, of course, broke the blown bulb and showered glass onto his head.

But it said a lot about Bob that in that moment, he didn't even care.

**Author's Note:**

> It struck me as extremely unfair that One Two gets a lucky escape from his torture and death, but that it appears that Stella doesn't. So this is me addressing the issue - even if the boys don't realise that's what this is - they think it's all about them... :)


End file.
